


Ink

by mystrangedarkson



Series: Sanders Sides Ficlets [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Artist!Virgil, M/M, Soulmate AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, like there's maaaaybe one sentence that's a little bit angsty if you squint hard enough, logan is still just a nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-03-15 15:09:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13615971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystrangedarkson/pseuds/mystrangedarkson
Summary: Soulmate AU where when you write something on your skin, it shows up on your soulmate's skin as well. A big ole fluff fest





	1. Virgil

When he was about 8, Virgil asked his parents about the matching writing on their arms. When they told him that it’s a physical trait of soulmates, he knew he wanted to give his soulmate, whoever they were, beautiful things. So he started drawing. He practiced on paper- he didn’t want to give his soulmate anything but his best. **  
**

He learned a lot about his soulmate over the years. Mostly that they were a total nerd. The first writing he got was when he was 13, and it simply said “Pythagoras?”. In response, Virgil drew overlapping and colorful triangles. An hour or so later, the words “right triangles” appeared next to Virgil’s art.

Over the years, Virgil would get club reminders, homework reminders, constellations, and for a few years in high school, “BAD WOLF” was constantly on his inner wrists. Both of them in clear handwriting, so they were probably ambidextrous, which impressed Virgil to no end.

Virgil’s favorite came after he drew a large, intricate floral piece on his thigh the summer after he graduated high school. He was incredibly bored, so he decided to hopefully brighten up his soulmate’s day. Not long after he finished, the scientific names of all the flowers he drew appeared on his other thigh. Virgil blushed at the implication and carefully photographed the two pieces side by side.

By 23, Virgil was very proud of his artistic ability. He’d worked hard for it, and dedicating himself to learning something and seeing it pay off worked wonders for his overactive anxiety. So he wore his ‘gifts’ for his soulmate proudly, hoping someone would recognize the art he put his entire heart and soul into.

He was in his favorite coffee shop, working on improving his calligraphy when it happened.

As he was practicing, he idly noticed a man in a black polo and blue tie walk past him, sit down in one of the other comfy chairs, and write something on his hand before taking a sip of his drink and opening the book he was carrying. Taking a drink of his own coffee, Virgil noticed the new writing on his hand. It said “calligraphy?” in the clear, deliberate handwriting Virgil loved so much. Virgil looked at the man curiously but figured it must be a coincidence. Virgil couldn’t be sure when exactly his note appeared, and it was commonplace to write to oneself. Regardless, his soulmate was potentially interested in something Virgil loved but hadn’t indicated to them that he did. So he carefully wrote on his inner left forearm “Do it. It’s fun!” in his best calligraphy.

Virgil watched as the stranger adjusted his glasses before holding out his left arm as if reading something. He then smiled, wrote something on his right wrist, and went back to his book. Virgil immediately checked his wrist, and there it was. “Thanks. I will.” Virgil’s mouth went dry. He took deep breaths to steady his hand as he wrote “Found you. How’s your coffee?” in his usual handwriting on the other side of his forearm.

Virgil’s heart was in his throat as the man picked up his coffee and noticed the new writing on his arm. He looked around the cafe, eyes wide with excitement and nervousness. When they made eye contact, Virgil smiled and waved once, showing his own writing. The man immediately stood up and walked over, abandoning his drink and book.  Virgil stood to meet him, but before he could say anything, he was caught in a searing kiss. After a split second of shock, he was kissing back with equal passion. The kiss was over as suddenly as it began, and the man- _Virgil’s soulmate_ \- started talking.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked. It’s just… I’ve dreamt about you, my amazing artist, for so long, and here you are looking more beautiful than I could have ever dreamt.”

“It- It’s okay. I feel the same. I have since you made a note about Pythagoras a decade ago. The name’s Virgil, by the way.”

“Logan,” he said as he pulled Virgil in for another, sweeter kiss.


	2. Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Logan's side of the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh boy, writer's block has been killer the last... couple of months. So I wrote this little fluffy companion piece to try to dislodge the stick. I hope y'all like it as much as you seem to like the first chapter!

Logan Fowler lived a very sheltered life. His parents told him he was too smart for public school and that private school was a waste of money, so they home schooled him. He knew there were gaps in his education, especially when it came to social skills, but he trusted his parents to teach him what he needed to know. As he got older, they encouraged his curiosity, encouraged him to learn what he wanted to on top of what the state required he learn.

By 14, his curiosity was insatiable. He wanted to learn everything he possibly could. He'd latch on to one topic or fact from his parents, and research the answers to every one of his million follow-up questions- he didn't want to burden his parents with answering pointless questions when he was fully capable of finding the answers himself. Usually, he wrote down his questions as they came to him in a small notebook he kept with him.

In keeping with her focus on his education, his mother would quiz him while they ran errands if it was during traditional school hours. Today's impromptu quiz was on math- specifically geometry, because she knew he struggled with it.

"I _don't see how this will help me in the long run. Arithmetic will, for obvious reasons, and algebra is useful for higher levels of thinking and problem solving. Geometry serves no purpose," Logan would argue._

_"I see your point, son, but adding more dimensions to your thinking will only expand your problem-solving skills, and the basics of geometry, and later trigonometry, are vital to higher mathematics, and one cannot pursue a respectable career in science without proficiency."_

"Logan? Are you listening to me?"

"I'm sorry, mom. I was recalling your reasons why I have to learn this."

"I'm glad to hear that you're trying to improve your attitude. That shows a strength of character and discipline that will prove invaluable. Now, how does one find the length of the hypotenuse of a right triangle?"

"The sum of the squares of the lengths of the two known sides. More simply put as the equation A squared plus B squared equals C squared."

"Good. What is that equation called?"

"The… Pythagorean theorem?"

"Well done. That is enough quizzing for now, you've earned a break."

"Thank you, mom."

Logan's mind was full of a single question- _who figured that out, and how? What was his name again… Pythagoras? I should write that down so I don't forget. Oh, no. I left my notebook at home. I have my pen, though. I'll write his name down and wash it off when I get back._ So he did just that and continued shopping.

Approximately half an hour later, Logan was home. He took off his coat and was shocked to find a drawing on his arm right underneath the reminder he had written earlier- a series of overlapping triangles. _What the hell is this? I certainly didn't do it. So who did? I can’t tell my parents, though. I’ll get in trouble for writing on myself, and they’ll think I’ve lost my mind if I tell them I didn’t draw the triangles. Which, really, should be right triangles. Clearly someone or something else put the art there, so I should correct them._ After quickly writing “right triangles” underneath the admittedly very aesthetically pleasing piece, he shrugged his coat back on to cover his arm and went to his room to do further research.

-

Logan furrowed his brow in confusion and frustration. No matter what search parameters he used, the only explanation he found was the concept that soulmates not only existed but writing on one's own body resulted in the same writing appearing on one's soulmate. Naturally, he immediately did more research into the science of soulmates. The results were frustratingly slim. The articles he could find were often kept behind paywalls, and he certainly couldn't ask his parents for their credit card information so he could maybe get answers to such a silly, fanciful question.

-

Over the years, Logan simply accepted the fact that occasionally, he'd find increasingly beautiful pieces of art, usually on his arms. Every time he did, he indulged fantasies of who this person might be. He occasionally considered trying to communicate directly with them, his soulmate, but he never did. So he carried on with life as usual, albeit slightly more prone to writing on his arms. _Maybe this way they'll learn more about me without me seeming too forward, without putting myself out there too much._ He'd never admit it, but he was terrified that once they found out who he was, how formal and awkward he was, they'd stop drawing, and that was the last thing he ever wanted. He loved watching their skill increase, and they seemed to be getting increasingly confident, judging by the frequency and intricacy of the drawings.

His theory was proven correct one beautiful summer day after his first semester of college, when a floral masterpiece appeared on his thigh. He had just aced a botany course, and he recognized all of the flowers present. _Were they in the class too? What if they were? Are they a student here? If so, how do I find them? Breathe, Logan. All in due time. Statistically, 98% of all soulmates find each other. Whatever power decides who is soulmates with whom surely must intend for soulmates to meet. God, listen to me, believing in fate and a higher power. Mom and dad would be so disappointed. That's what going away for college is about, though, isn't it? Discovering who you are outside of the constraints of your upbringing? Anyway, I should respond to my soulmate, show my appreciation. But how? Addressing them is still out of the question. Oh, I know._ Grabbing his favorite pen, the one that showed up best on his skin, he carefully listed the scientific names of each flower.

-

Four years passed, and Logan was, for lack of a better word, completely smitten. His artist was nothing short of spectacular. The emotion in every drawing was staggering. As much as he loved finding new work, he loved even more when it was weeks before he got a new piece, as that meant something incredible was coming. His soulmate's dedication to improving was inspiring so Logan decided to give something back. He wanted to show his soulmate (a chill went up his spine every time he thought those words) his affection and appreciation in no uncertain terms, and he knew just how to do it. He'd always had an appreciation for poetry, and words were his biggest strength. He knew it needed to be perfect, though, both in content and presentation. He always thought best with a cup of coffee, so he went to his favorite coffee place to read a collection of John Keats' work he borrowed from the library for inspiration.

Walking to one of the comfy chairs in the back of the shop, drink in hand, he noticed a young man with purple hair, dark eyeshadow, and purple nail polish practicing what appeared to be calligraphy. _That's perfect! That's the presentation they deserve, an ode to their art. Mastering it will delay when I can give my 'gift' to them, but it will be worth it,_ Logan thought, quickly writing "calligraphy?" on his hand. After finishing a poem or two, he realized his glasses were slipping off his face. He adjusted them and noticed something new on his arm- "Do it. It's fun!" written in flawless purple calligraphy. _Of course they do calligraphy too. God, is there anything they can't do?_ Fully aware he was grinning like the lovesick fool he absolutely was, he wrote "Thanks. I will." on his wrist and reached for his coffee. His heart stopped when he read the message that appeared across his forearm in the messy handwriting he absolutely adored.

"Found you. How's your coffee?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Love all of you tons <3

**Author's Note:**

> [edit 10/25] Oh my god 2000 hits y'all I love you so much, and thank you so, so much for reading <3


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